


i am the soft stars that shine at night

by loweryi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Other, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, mostly just musing on grief, some implied wol/emet-selch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loweryi/pseuds/loweryi
Summary: i just wanted to explore the nostalgia and grief i felt after 5.3! my character remains nameless because this is less of a focus on her and more of a focus on how she's trying to compartmentalize all of the pain and suffering of a civilization she never thought she'd find kinship with and now she feels the same sort of melancholy pining that one feels after they wake from a dream, with none of the memories but all of the emotions left behind. :)
Relationships: Ascian Characters/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 3





	i am the soft stars that shine at night

grief has made a comfortable home in the hollows of her heart. 

ever a constant, she has grown accustomed to its visits in the dead of night, by way of sobs so _torn_ from the depths of her that they shake her conscious. loss has always followed her like a shadow, and though she knows she cannot feel every death so completely, she tries. it is the least they deserve, all those who have perished in her wars. who else will remember the bloodied, crooked smiles of broken men, the piercing screams of soldiers weeping for their mothers in the wreckage of a battlefield? the bones of both friends and unfortunate enemies barricade her crumbling heart. 

at this point she thinks those fragile scaffolds are the only thing keeping her standing. 

when she wakes this night, tears gluing her cheek to her pillow, it is more than grief coiling around her neck in comfort. it has been so much more than just _grief_ for so long now. she peels herself away from the sweat-soaked sheets and takes a moment to sit with her feet upon the cool stone floor, head cradled in her hands. no use in wiping the tears away just yet when more will surely follow. 

steeled, even if briefly, she makes her way to her balcony for the only comfort she can find, the only comfort she can justify. she throws on a robe before stepping out into the night, grateful that the gloom has subsided enough that she can see the stars. a part of her knows that no matter how hard she searches, the stars she’s looking for won’t be there. but she adjusts, and paints in their constellations. she traces their names against the sky, speaks them out loud to remind herself of how they sounded, of how they might have spoken in the beautiful, echoing language of the ancients. 

it is so much more than grief, this terrible yearning. she aches and keenly feels the loss of something she knows she has no right to covet, not when she hardly has the memories to justify her pain. but there is _something_ on the edges of her soul that pulls and tears at her like gentle, ragged claws, fraying the seams of everything she has sewn and known to be right and good and true. 

she held their souls and memories in her hands. she cradled them close if only for a moment, an infant trying to cling to something so, so much larger than its tiny grasp can bear. 

this not-grief pounds against the hollows of her heart and she swears she can hear the echoes of a distant ocean ringing out against the bones of a broken city. some part of her wishes she could have been a footnote in _their_ story, that _anyone_ more capable could have held this lonely longing instead. they had a thousand thousand years of practice, after all; eons with which to acquaint themselves carefully with the curves and folds and strangling edges of grief, having seen them all already in the countless robes bearing the bodies of their brothers, lovers, friends. 

_i loved them then, i love them still._ she knows not how, or when, or why. she knows nothing other than the fact that repeating it feels like truth. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this and wanna hear me rant about more ffxiv, feel free to follow me on twitter [ @loweryi.](https://twitter.com/Loweryi) i also made a playlist for emet-selch [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1p1mRyNKGo1RNs1I1DcSyT?si=8Sn0PgtbQvuKpzYbwDq0xw) (and a detailed commentary of why i picked which songs i did [here](https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1X5tD5zTsAYxkUupEos798z_0LS2pC-krAD1ngaG21YA/edit?usp=sharing)) as well as a general lamenting eulogy playlist for the ascians [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0NMhE8W3AL6LsyPwZXhaej?si=u10WJySCTqKxxzqOKVF4Uw)


End file.
